


Done and Undone

by Katastrophe94



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst, Blood, Injury, Lewis is smad, Multi, Multiple Perspectives, Possession, and conflicted, like right after, set after Hellbent, trust demons to take you to the bad place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katastrophe94/pseuds/Katastrophe94
Summary: Lewis thought he would feel happy. He doesn't. And when it comes to light that Arthur didn't die immediately in the fall that was supposed to kill him, he doesn't fully know what to do.Unfortunately for him, a certain interloper has other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my first ever Mystery Skulls Animated fanfic! About time!
> 
> Anyway, this one's a long one, so strap in kids! Just a route I wanted to explore here (like people haven't already done 'the demon comes back' bit), and I think it turned out okay! 
> 
> Enjoy!~

Lewis thought he would feel happy.

Well . . . maybe not _happy_ , per say. But . . . something _better_ than before. Better than rage, better than hate, better than that constant, never-ending desire for revenge.

Relief.

Vindication.  
_Peace_ , at the very least. That’s what you were supposed to feel at the end, wasn’t it?

He did not expect the jagged, razor sharp wall of _grief_ that slammed into him instead like a tsunami, a choking, stomach-turning tempest of misery that would have made it hard to breathe had he still needed to. Despair, confusion, _guilt_ even, things he didn’t think he would experience, that he _shouldn’t_ experience, because this was what he wanted, wasn’t it?! This was why he was _here!_ The reason he was a ghost in the first place, because he wanted to make his murderer suffer!

_“Lewis?”_

And yet, Arthur’s single, spoken word, his own name, a _question_ full of utter disbelief, would not leave his head. And the look on his face when Lewis dropped him, the confusion, the shock, not _understanding_ . . . that was all he could see.

_How could he not know it was me?_

Murderers don’t just forget their victims, do they? They don’t . . . they don’t look at _them_ like they’re the monsters in the story! That wasn’t how it worked, and _damn it_ , he’s not supposed to feel guilty for killing one! No, Arthur had to have known, h-he ran _away_ from him, for fuck’s sake! Why would he run from him if he wasn’t _guilty!?_

_Because Arthur always ran from the supernatural. Because he didn’t know it was you. Because maybe everything you believed hasn’t been as clear-cut as you thought it was._

Lewis slammed his sockets shut, pressing a hand to his head in an attempt to quiet his own inner turmoil. No, that couldn’t be it. Arthur had _pushed_ him, sent him screaming to his death, it couldn’t be more clear-cut than that! He’d seen it with his own eyes, the memory burned into his mind with perfect clarity! There can’t be anything more to it than that, because if there was, then that meant-!

The reinvented cavern around him fluctuated suddenly, pulsing like a heartbeat as its form briefly went intangible, motes of amethyst light swirling up from the below in a chaotic spin as if they’d been caught up in a frenzied wind. Lewis held up a hand fast, focusing to prevent this plane he’d made from collapsing entirely.

He tried not to dwell on the way his hand shook, even as everything fell back into place.

A soft, warbling tinny distracted him, and Lewis looked just in time to see one of his accompanying Deadbeats break away from him, its sad, forlorn expression fixed on the cliff’s crooked edge. Below, the jagged tips of the cavern’s stalagmites burned brightly, coldly, reaching up with long, lethal fingers . . . Lewis suddenly didn’t want to look at them.

But the Deadbeat had other plans. With another sad murmur, it floated over the edge and down, as if drawn to it. Where Arthur was . . .

Lewis felt the pull, that ethereal bond shared between him and the spirits that loyally followed him, coaxing him forward. The Deadbeat wanted him to follow, and with a start, he realized that the spirit’s sad, gentle tug was the strongest by far of any of his emotions. His anger, his hatred . . . they had shrunk in on themselves, pulled deep within . . . they had been his strongest drive for so long, to suddenly realize their absence was . . . a shock, to say the least. But . . . he can’t ignore this. So, after reaching up to cradle the nearly shattered remnants of his heart, its newfound fragility settling worryingly wrong on him, Lewis slowly began to follow.

The cavern is as near a perfect replica as he can make it from memory, from the stony corridors to the place where he met his own end . . . it was supposed to be ironic. A slap to Arthur’s face. Now though . . . it just had his soul shuddering in discomfort.

The Deadbeat in front of him whined again, suddenly picking up speed, swooping down into a narrow hollow between the crooked spires around them. Lewis’ dangling hand tightened involuntarily, and if he’d had a throat still, he would have swallowed in trepidation for what he was about to find.

That’s when a new sound reached him. A long, harsh, rattling sound, thin and reed-like, echoing in his skull. A . . . a breath.

Lewis stopped dead.

_No . . . no, no, he can’t be . . ._

There’re several horribly tense seconds of silence that followed, Lewis unwilling to move from his spot, keyed up in a way he didn’t think was possible . . . when a second one came again. Its more like a gasp for air that wouldn’t come, wet and so paper-thin, and _something_ inside Lewis reacted to it. The specter jolted forward, bracing a hand against the stone pillar beside him as the crevice came into full view.

He didn’t know what he had expected to feel . . . but the gut-punch he received couldn’t even shock him.

Because what he saw was _horrible._

Arthur’s splayed out on the ground, cuts and bruises marring his pale skin, his back unnaturally twisted at a painful angle, half-dangling from a long, narrow stalagmite that’s pierced him through the side. Blood had pooled across the ground beneath him and soaked through his shirt so much it looked red, the puddle looking oily and black in the maroon light of the cave and slicking the stone that had run him through. With a slightly sickened jolt, Lewis saw that his left arm was completely missing, resting several feet away from the scene. Its not until he saw the way the light bounced off of it that he realized it was metal. Had it always been metal? When had Arthur lost his arm?

. . . why did he care?

Arthur’s staring at some point above them, eyes glassy but still aware, if only of the pain he must undoubtedly be in. He drew in another hard, shaking breath, high and thin like he was sucking air in through a straw. It sounded . . . painful.

Agonizing.

 _God, how is he still alive, the fall was supposed to kill him, it was supposed to kill him_ instantly!

The feeling of a stone dropped through Lewis’ core, so heavy it seemed to drag him from the air, forcing him to the ground. He took a step closer, his own emotions feeling like they’re at war with each other. He’s supposed to hate Arthur . . . he’s supposed to feel _good_ about what he’s done _._ This was what he deserved! But . . . did anyone deserve this?

Arthur suddenly coughed, harsh and jarring, his thin body shaking from the force from head to toe. The other man’s throat abruptly caught on something, a liquid sputter like he’s choking on water, and suddenly blood gushed from his mouth, splattering against the stone. His coughing trailed off into sob of horrible pain, the light of the cavern catching the gleam of tears trickling down Arthur’s face.

Arthur’s other hand weakly rose up, padding at the spike jutting through his side like he could pull it out as if it were nothing more than a thorn, one Lewis was sure had pierced a lung now. Arthur’s fingers came away red, his breaths coming faster, more erratic, and Lewis knew he was dying and it’s so . . . _much._

He looked away. It almost felt like from shame.

_A kindness it would be to kill him now and stop it._

Except, could he? His hands trembled at the thought now. He tried almost desperately to summon even a sliver of that old rage that kept him going in the past, thought about everything he had lost _because_ of Arthur, his home, his family, the love of his life . . . but all he found was a feeble ember before the powerful undertow of his own guilt-ridden grief.

It’s not supposed to feel this way, is it?

“L- . . . Lew- . . .”

Lewis’ eyes shot back to Arthur, feeling the pieces of his shattered heart pulse in response. He’s . . . really calling for him? After everything?

The Deadbeat that had led him cried softly, a single tear beading from the corner of it’s ghostly eye. Slowly, like it was trying not to scare a frightened and injured animal, it hovered closer until it floated beside him. Arthur noticed instantly when it came into view, and fear is the only response Arthur gave, whimpering as it came closer. The Deadbeat’s perpetual frown deepened in sorrow, reaching out and gently taking Arthur’s bloodstained hand between its ghostly ones, holding it and nothing more. Another tug, another feeble thump from his heart, and Lewis took another step forward, his foot knocking against a loose pebble and sending it clattering across the stone floor.

Arthur heard it, eyes shooting frantically in his direction, wild and terrified.

And then they alighted on Lewis, and the terror vanished to become disturbingly _blank._

It’s a deep, unsettling silence that followed, the air turning stagnate, stifling. Then, Arthur’s mouth moved, words no louder than a feeble, weak whisper full of incomprehension.

“L-Le . . . wis,” he choked out, more blood bubbling past his white lips, “W. . . why?”

And it _cut._ It cut more than Lewis would have thought possible. Because that single question brought with it a terrible realization. That Arthur truly doesn’t remember and doesn’t understand why he was here. He’d . . . _forgotten._ His former best friend, his very own _murderer_ . . . had forgotten _everything._

A single spark of heat ignited inside his soul. Its familiar, burning, something he’s felt so many times before.

How could Arthur forget? How could he forget what he did like it didn’t _matter?_

Beside him, another Deadbeat emerged to perch along his shoulder, mouth open to flash needle sharp fangs.

“You . . .” he started, voice shaking, with rage or sadness, he honestly didn’t know, “How could you forget? How could you forget what _you did to me?”_

Arthur stared, drawing another ragged breath, eyes uncomprehending.

Lewis clenched his sockets shut, air hissing around him as his eyes burned- _from anger? From tears?_ -hands clenched into trembling fists, “I’m _dead_ , Arthur! And _you’re the reason why!_ ”

Lewis reopened them to fix Arthur with a glare, because it was so much easier to be angry than all the other things he had felt so far, even as he wrestled with the hurt of what he saw, what he had done, almost desperate to have his former best friend remember, to look _any_ other way than he did.

_And if he understood, would that make you feel better? Or worse?_

Arthur opened his mouth, but all that came out was another horrible cough, wracking his body in spasms. But as it passed, the man shook his head, almost desperately, “N-no . . .”

“ _Yes!_ ” Arthur insisted, moving closer until his shadow loomed over the other, “You pushed me over the edge! You _watched me fall!_ How can you not _remember!_ Did I really matter so _little_ to you?!”

Arthur continued shaking his head, face pinching with pain, with despair, with _horror_ , “N- . . . _no-!_ ”

Lewis’ glare hardened, the glow of his eyes intensifying. He doesn’t notice the way the sorrowful Deadbeat coiled closer to Arthur, ghostly body winding over him as if to protect him from Lewis’ steadily building anger.

“You . . . you were _my best friend!_ I TRUSTED YOU WITH _EVERTHING!_ AND YOU _KILLED ME!”_ fire flared up around his fist, magenta flames that cast the stalagmites around him in stark relief. He saw Arthur flinch, terror reawakening in his eyes as Lewis brought his fist up as if to strike him.

Then, Lewis spun around and struck the stalagmite beside him instead. The stone cracked and shattered before bursting into motes of purple light, rising harmlessly into the sky to join they’re many fellows. Around him, several others burst as well, the illusory magic making them real dissipating like mist. Including the one pierced through Arthur.

The human hit the ground proper, wheezing in pain when he did, hand twitching weakly in the Deadbeat’s grasp. Lewis purposefully kept his back turned.

“I trusted you . . . and you killed me,” he repeated, angry, hurt, sad, so many emotions he didn’t want to _feel_ anymore, “And you don’t even _remember._ ”

Silence fell between them outside of Arthur’s gasping, pained moans. Its . . . not pleasant to listen to. Lewis should just end it, end _this_ , not drag it out any more than it already had been. Even though his hands shook, he forced himself to bring a fist up, reigniting the flame along his knuckles. The anger he once carried so close to his existence, that hot encompassing heat that gave him drive and purpose, percolated through his being, not as strong as it had been when he’d been on the hunt . . . but maybe strong enough for what he had to do now. He ignored the way the sad little spirit around Arthur whined desolately. He’d already come too far to turn back. Arthur’s wounds were bad, and he’d lost too much blood, there _was_ no saving him now, even if Lewis . . .

. . .

. . . This waiting was only making it worse.

He'd . . . try and make it quick this time. He’d make sure. No point in dragging it out . . .

“L-. . . Lewis . . . _please-_ ,” Arthur’s plaintive and pleading whisper got lost within another choking cough, and against all odds, Lewis _winced_ because of it, “I-I d-don’t . . . do-n’t . . .”

“Just-!” Lewis stopped, the ethereal magic forming his ‘hair’ flickering unstably as he forced himself to be calm. He drew in a facsimile of a breath, a motion that helped his mind still even in death, and when he finally spoke again, its with more gentleness than he thought possible for someone he was supposed to hate with all his being, “Just . . . close your eyes, Arthur.”

The glowing flame around his fist grew just a little larger, and he pretended that the terrified wheeze Arthur gave didn’t make his hand shake uncertainly and the cracks in his heart _deepen_.

_Ha ha ha._

Reactionary instinct took over in a flash as Lewis spun around, fire flying from his fist to strike the spot he had heard the laughter come from, lighting up the shadows beneath with a flare of magenta light. An uneasy tingle traveled down his back, cold and sharp, and his eyes continuously scanned the area for any trace of movement, mind racing.

Who was in here? This place should only be accessible to himself and those he brought in, _no one_ else.

Another rasp of laughter rose up around him, jeering, taunting, a dark mirth that sent a disturbed shiver up his spine. This time, it had no origin, seeming like it was coming from everywhere. His glowing pupils shrunk, the radiance of them burning even stronger now as he growled, “Who’s there?”

No answer. Just a clatter of distant stone, the hum of magic in the air.

Until Arthur started gasping with renewed force.

Lewis’ eyes flew to him, to find the human was jerking on the ground like he was trying to crawl away from some unseen terror, cries and whimpers crawling out of throat. His eyes were wide open, but they were glazed, unfocused, and Lewis found it was hard to see them in the first place what with the sudden fog that had rolled over the ground, the thick haze tinted a venomous green.

The sight of it sent a thrill of sudden and inexplicable terror through his core, and he’s never been more acutely aware of how fragile his heart is right now.

Something suddenly slammed into the back of Lewis skull, small digits of what felt like fingers digging into the bone with unnatural strength, knocking him forward. He caught himself in the air and spun lightly around, flames lighting up his fists and arms, looking for his attacker when the weight vanished. Nothing but the fog was what he could see, the green of it clashing with the purples of his created world.

The cry the Deadbeat beside Arthur gave was his only warning, alarm racing through his limbs. But as he spun around, mist swirling around his legs, it’s only to hear Arthur _scream._

Green and gold flared across his vision, the crackling sound of livewire buzzing about his ears as an electric mantle tingled across his body, lighting up every sense.

And suddenly, Lewis was being blown back by a great and powerful surge of electric green lightning, back slamming into a rocky spire. The smell of sulfur and copper assailed his senses, burning hot and stinging, white spots dancing in his sockets.

Growling, he forced himself upright, staring into the clouds of vaporous fog that had settled into the spot where the blast had come from. And within, he could make out a standing silhouette. A _familiar_ silhouette.

Sockets narrowing, Lewis took a step forward, asking, “Arthur?”

The shadow shifted, then gave a sudden hard jerk, the sound of bones snapping harshly back into place ringing in the eerily quiet cavern. The figure cracked its neck to the left, then the right, then extended to arms over its head in a long, leisurely stretch.

“Aaaaah, _finally!_ ” a voice cried in unabashed delight, and it _sounded_ like Arthur but . . . _not._ It set Lewis on edge, “I knew if I followed that twig, it’d lead to somewhere good!”

The figure laughed, voice reverberating in its mirth as it spun around to face him, the fog parting like a curtain when it did, and Lewis _balked._

The figure . . . _was_ Arthur. But something is wrong.

Very, _very_ wrong.

For one, the green tinge of his skin is decidedly not normal, and in some places, like his bare upper arms and collarbone, Lewis saw what looked like _scales_ travelling across the flesh. And arms, because he had _both_ again, his right braced against his hip, the other-the one that had been missing-dangling freely next to him. His posture is upright, shoulders squared back and chin turned up, cocksure and confident, a far cry from how the Arthur he knew carried himself. His clothes were still bloodstained heavily, but the wound in Arthur’s side was completely gone, healed over at an unnatural speed, like he’d never been stabbed at all. But no change made Lewis’ heart thud more than the whites of once-human eyes swallowed entirely in black, colored only by rings of brilliant viridian green.

Seeing Lewis’ roving eyes, ‘Arthur’s’ lips curled up into a smile, revealing a sharp fang, “Haha, like what you see, _Lewis?_ Worth the wait? Because _oh_ , was it _such_ a wait, wasn’t it?”

The ghost shoulders tensed in alarm. How did it-?!

“Know your name?” ‘Arthur’ finished for him, and Lewis didn’t know if it truly read his thoughts or not. But he did know that whatever was in front of him now was not Arthur. The creature-a possessive demon or spirit-frowned at him then, overly exaggerated to feign hurt, placing it’s free hand over it’s chest, “Aaw, little Lewlew doesn’t remember me? I’m _hurt,_ really.”

“Who are you?” he growled, tired of these games and irritated by the use of the old, affectionate nickname his friends had given him, once upon a happier time. He’d buried that past, and he hated this thing for bringing it up.

The creature sniggered, Arthur’s usual chipper laughter distorted by something darker and _nastier_ , “My my, death really _has_ messed with your memories, hasn’t it? Or . . . maybe you just don’t _want_ to remember? Human minds are suck finicky little things, after all.”

“I won’t ask _again_ , spirit!” Lewis spat, flames beginning to flicker and dance around his shoulders, “How did you get in here? Why are you in Arthur?”

The creature idly sidled to the left, giving Lewis a mocking little side-eye, “How’d I get in? You left the door open, you moron. And someone like me takes that as a free invitation. As for little Artie-boy . . .”

It grinned, huge and glinting and wicked and something in it is _familiar_ , so _familiar_ , that Lewis’ hand goes to clutch at his chest.

“Think fast!”

Suddenly, the spirit-possessed Arthur thrust his left arm out, fingers spread and open, revealing the eye embedded into his palm. An eye that glowed brilliant and blinding just before an arc of wild lighting erupted from its fingers.

Lewis jerked to the side just into time, feeling the sparks jitter over his body as the bolt blew into the rock behind him. If he’d had real hair, it would have been standing on end.

A flash of movement, and Lewis was forced to backpedal as ‘Arthur’ burst from the fog, lashing at him with hands now capped by wicked black claws. They slashed so close to his face that Lewis could see the lethal curve of every one, the light of the cavern sliding like oil off their surface.

He dodged another swipe, then another, driven back with each one, the fetid glow of the creature’s eyes burning with unabashed glee. But Lewis was growing tired of this. So, dodging one last strike, and blocked the other with his arm and knocked the other back, unbalancing it. The creature wind-milled, but wasn’t able to correct itself in time as Lewis reeled his arm back and slammed his fiery fist into the creature’s jaw.

It stumbled back, hand going up to grip its mouth. A burn scored the flesh of it’s cheek, but Lewis could already see it was healing as the thing grasped it’s jaw and experimentally wiggled it.

“You’ve got more fire left in you than I thought,” The creature wearing Arthur’s skin grinned at him, and a forked tongue slipped past it’s lips, brushing against the burned flesh before giggling, “That’ll make this _so_ much more fun.~”

Then it vanished from sight, like it’d become one with the fog. Lewis was immediately on guard, fire sparking over his knuckles in preparation for a nasty surprise. Just in time, as the subtle shift in air pressure behind him warned him of the attack before he saw it.

Spinning around, Lewis caught the arm coming towards him by the wrist, sparks of green lightning dancing around the tips of its claws. It startled him just how _strong_ the creature was, his arm actually shaking from the exertion of keeping it away from his face. He caught sight of its grin, stark white in the gloom, before movement to his right caught his eye. Lewis jerked his body back just in time to avoid it’s other hand, hearing the sharp whistle of claws that came _this_ close to tearing straight through his already fragile heart. It knew it was his weak point!

Growling, Lewis tightened his grip as he spun around, dragging the entity with him before hurling it at the stone spikes that surrounded their impromptu arena.

The creature’s back hit the stone hard, body slumping to the ground. But this thing was more resilient than a human, a fact that became clear as it hoisted itself up on its arms with little trouble, lips pursed into an unamused frown, “You know, you could stand to be a _little_ more gentle. I _just_ got this body, after all, and I’m still stretching it out.”

Lewis didn’t deign it with an answer. But he couldn’t afford getting close with the condition of his heart. So instead, orbs of flame began to coalesce into existence around his shoulders before flying at the creature like shooting stars, the heat scorching away the fog they passed.

This thing was slippery, though, its body melding into the fog with ease. He could see it however, a pair of glowing eyes in the mist only partially obscured, darting over the ground to avoid the fire that slammed into the earth behind it by a hair’s breadth.

Ah . . . so it could use the fog to partially hide itself in. He was going to need to pin it down first.

The surrounding fog blew out as flowers of fire erupted over the field, breaking up the haze and allowing him to see the thing slither between the cracks of the stalagmites. Sockets narrowing, Lewis snapped his fingers.

At his command, several Deadbeats emerged around him before scattering over the field, teeth gnashing as they gave themselves over to the hunt. They’d find it. And they would let him know.

A pressure on his shoulder gave him pause, glancing to find that the sad little Deadbeat had taken a place there, small and tearful. It’s hands, he could see, were still stained with red.

Arthur’s blood.

Lewis clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand as he floated up into the air, observing. From what he knew of possession spirits, they were strongest when in full control of a host. A host they had either forged a deal with, or slipped in through weak defenses.

For all he’d done to him, Lewis didn’t believe Arthur would go and try to forge a pact with a supernatural entity. Despite the blood on his hands, he was still skittish around the paranormal. So, weak defenses. It made sense. Arthur was not known for his willpower, and with the way he’d been before this possession . . . well, fear and pain was very enticing to such creatures, because a fearful human on the verge of death was a very weak target.

That didn’t explain how it was _this_ powerful now, though. Similar entities he had seen were supernaturally stronger and faster when in possession of a host, healed better than normal humans too, but this kind of energy and manipulation of outside forces . . .? Was this creature just naturally this strong? Or . . . was it something about Arthur himself?

And how did it know him? Arthur’s memories? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but it had spoken so familiarly to him.

There was no answer for any of these questions. But, it did cement that he needed to destroy this creature before it could escape.

A chorus of rhythmic cries caught his attention, and he looked to see several Deadbeats chasing after a glowing wisp of fog. Said wisp suddenly shot back, blowing right by the startled Deadbeats and banishing the mist hiding its physical body. Without pause, it lunged forward and buried its claws into the nearest Deadbeat, wringing out a cry as electric sparks traveled up its ghostly body. When it tried to bite the thing in turn, ‘Arthur’ caught its jaw in its free hand and slammed it into the ground.

The other two were surging forward, but Lewis knew what it would do if he didn’t act fast enough.

Bringing his hand up, Lewis thrust it down to the floor, and the entire cavern shook.

‘Arthur’ gave a startled cry when the ground beneath him suddenly swelled upwards, breaking it’s concentration as tendrils of stone rose up like water to wind around the creature’s wrists, holding it down. At the same time, the two uninjured Deadbeats flew at him and wrapped their long, sinuous forms around it, binding its arms to its body and holding it still. He saw it struggle futilely, body fading into obscurity, when it suddenly snapped back into physicality seemingly all its own. Pinned like this, its partial invisibility was worthless.

Not letting his guard down, Lewis floated down until he hovered in front of the creature, hands lighting up anew. It was struggling, cursing under its breath about ‘stupid body’ this and ‘stupid mortal’ that. Lewis could see sweat on its brow, and he realized that while powerful, it still wasn’t completely used to its mortal body yet. Good. He’d use that to his advantage.

The creature looked at him, glowing eyes alighting on his hand. Then, it grinned, “Heh, still so ready to kill your friend, huh?”

“He’s _not_ my friend,” Lewis growled, voice dangerously low.

“Really? He still seems to think so,” the creature replied blithely, wiggling its arms all the while, “I mean, he’d been looking for you the entire time after your unfortunate little foray into this cave. You’ve done a _great job_ recreating it, by the way. I’m almost touched.~”

The flames around his hand grew brighter, hotter, Lewis’ anger bubbling to the surface, “Look through Arthur’s memories all you like, it’s not going to save you!”

“Arthur’s mem-,” the creature stopped, stared, like it didn’t comprehend what Lewis said at first . . . and then it _laughed._ It laughed like Lewis had just told him the funniest joke in the world, the sound of it echoing all throughout the cavern. It irked and annoyed Lewis at the same time.

 _“What?”_ he snapped, glaring.

“Hahaha, ha, OH, this, this is _too good!_ ” the creature looked at him, grinning madly, “You-you _really_ believe it was _him_ , don’t you!”

. . . what?

Taking his stunned silence as invitation, the thing carried on mirthfully, “Oh, I mean, I _have_ been looking through little Artie’s memories, but please, he doesn’t even _remember_ what happened in that cave! He thought you were alive this whole time!”

It thrust itself forward as far as its binds would let it, nearly nose to nose with Lewis, “No, no, those memories . . . are _mine._ ”

It’s voice cut off in a choked _grk_ as Lewis suddenly closed a large fist around it’s scrawny neck, tightening dangerously as he lowered his head to meet its gaze head-on, eyes _burning,_ “What do you mean?”

“ _Gk_ , ha . . . exactly, what it sounds like,” it’s grin never faded, if anything pulling higher, “How about this- _ack_ , not so tight!”

Lewis softened his grip _slightly_ , “Talk. _Fast.”_

“Okay, okay, just don’t kill this body before then,” the creature hummed thoughtfully, eyes glinting, “Listen, since clearly there’s been a few pieces dropped somewhere here, how about I tell you a story?”

Lewis retightened his hold, “Not interested.”

“No, no, no, you’ll want to hear this! It’s about _you_ after all!” the creature tilted its head to the left as far as Lewis hand would allow, “But first . . . let me set the mood.”

_Bzt-!_

A sparkle of bright green flashed in the corner of Lewis’ vision, flashing around the creature’s shifting arms, and he barely backpedaled in time to throw up a shield of ethereal flame in front of him when lightning suddenly cascaded in waves down the creature’s body. It was so bright that Lewis was still seeing white even when it ended, body braced for anything to happen.

As his sight returned, he realized that the fog had deepened considerably, plunging everything into a world of murky green gloom. Where ‘Arthur’ had been was only charred rubble and soot, the spirit having vanished into it’s protective mist. Uneasy, Lewis slowly moved forward, senses open to any slight distortion of sound or movement that would give the possession spirit away. His Deadbeats gathered around him, fangs glinting. The little sad one merely hunkered closer to his shoulder.

From somewhere in the mist, ‘Arthur’s’ voice came, echoing from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, “Once upon a time, there were three friends.”

Lewis started back when the fog in front of him suddenly swirled, watching as three small shapes were carved out of the semi-solid mist. Each glowed their own unique color, purple, blue, and gold . . . it only took a half a second for Lewis to recognize them.

Vivi, Arthur . . . and himself. The fog apparitions were sitting together on some unseen bench, making animated movements as they silently spoke to one another, sharing a laugh to a joke Lewis couldn’t remember.

“These three friends, well, they were very close. You couldn’t find a group with bonds so strong anywhere. Most anything they did, they did together,” as the creature spoke, the images shifted; sitting at his family’s own restaurant, working in Uncle Lance’s auto shop, shooting the breezes on some unseen sidewalk . . .

“So it was for many years. Until, one day . . . a little spark of love blossomed between them.”

Lewis watched as the purple and blue apparitions reappeared, standing face to face. The purple one looked away once, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head, stuttering out silent words that Lewis heard in his own head because he _remembered_. The little blue figure watched the other intently, listening, smiling . . . and when the purple one finally reached out and boldly took the girl’s hand in his own, the blue one’s restraint snapped and she flung her arms around his shoulders. They spun together in joy, the mist dancing around their swaying feet as their unheard laughter drifted through Lewis mind, hopeful and happy and so, _so_ in love. He hadn’t even realized he’d been clutching at his heart and reaching for the pair until they dissipated, leaving only colorless silence behind.

The sad Deadbeat on his shoulder cooed sadly, softly, mirroring the emotions Lewis felt.

“And the two were so happy,” the unwanted voice continued, a sick sort of joy in its voice, “ _So_ happy, in fact . . . they didn’t notice the one they left behind.”

More apparitions flitted through his vision, purple and blue walking forward with springs in their steps, hands intertwined and eyes trading sweet glances . . . and the gold one, trailing behind, head down.

“No one noticed the distance between them, no one stopped to wonder, and he wouldn’t speak up, for why intrude?” the voice said, “Even though it _hurt_ , he never said a word.”

The gold one glanced at the pair in front, and for a second, his hand reached out, mouth opening as if to say something . . . then he closed it, wrapped his reaching hand around his opposite wrist, and looked away. Arthur had always looked away from them, for reasons Lewis hadn’t understood until he was falling to his death. Lewis saw every instant of it in his mind then, every envious glance over the shoulder, every dismissive, deflecting comment, and suddenly his heart _burned._

With a roar, he swung is arm out wide as fire arced from his body to the surrounding fog, burning it and the apparitions away, “ _I know this story!_ I know Arthur was jealous, I know the reason for why he _pushed me!”_

“You didn’t let me finish!” the voice shouted, almost petulant, “How rude!”

“I don’t _CARE!_ ” Lewis roared, furious, “You’re telling me nothing new! I _know_ Arthur hated me, even if he conveniently doesn’t remember now! What more is there to say?!”

“Hated you?” the creature laughed, long and mocking, piercing irritably inside his skull, “Hahaha, oh, you stupid boy! Haven’t you been paying attention? Arthur didn’t _hate_ you!”

Lewis was prepared for a lot of things. Ever since he’d died, it had been a requirement to grow a second skin to the bizarre and unexpected. Even still . . . the creature’s next words managed to rock him in the most startling way possible.

“He _loved_ you.”

Lewis had . . . no words for that. There’s shock, absolutely, but there’s disbelief too. Because how could that be _possible?_

“N-no . . .” he finally managed to eke out, spinning around, searching for the abomination in his lair, “No, that isn’t true! You’re just saying that to trip me up!”

“You could believe that, if you want to, but that doesn’t change the truth,” the creature said, “Because I _am_ telling the truth. He loved you. _Still_ loves you. In fact, he loves both of you!”

A trio of colored hearts suddenly materialized in front of him, spinning in the turgid mist. The blue and purple one spun close together, like they were in a dance, in perfect sync with the other’s movements. And away from the them, a gold one flitted fretfully, sidling closer before sliding away again, as if afraid to even be near them.

“He loves both of you sooo much,” the voice continued, not even giving Lewis time to ponder or digest what it was saying, “But how could he ask? You were both already so _perfect_ , what could a weak, sniveling little waste of space like himself give to you? No, he was lucky enough you wanted to be _friends_ with him! And surely it wouldn’t matter if you were together! You two were happy, _so happy_ , it didn’t matter what he wanted! It was already so selfish of him to want you both, he should just be grateful that you even wanted him around . . .”

“Except it did matter.”

A fissure cut through the mist making up the gold heart’s body, a jagged black crack right down the center, “Oh, it mattered, because as you two wandered away, so in love, it became obvious that your affection, what little he had, was slowly disappearing. He, a useless third wheel, an annoying little tag-a-long, how long would it be before you grew tired of pretending to like having him around? And he was scared, so _scared_ of that, but he followed you anyway, because how could he go back to the loneliness of before? You lit up his world so brightly . . . what was there to go back to except _darkness?”_

The cracks in the golden heart spread, spider-webbed . . .

“A heart so terribly at war with itself, a soul so terrified of _loneliness_ . . . and neither of the ones he cared so much about noticed. It’s enough to grow _resentment._ But even still, he tried so hard to please you . . . if only to make you keep him around just a little longer.”

“What is the point of this?”  Lewis ground out, feeling uncomfortable and deeply unsettled. How could any of what it was saying be _true?_ Arthur had been . . . jealous . . .

“The point, by dear, lost phantom, is that all of these things were how your dear Arthur felt. So weak, so pitiable, so very worn down by his own conflicting emotions . . . _oh_ , I knew when he set foot in my cave that he was _perfect._ ”

The gold heart before him shattered, swallowing everything in mist, and Lewis felt like he dropped through the floor.

_No . . ._

“And so we set our next scene, where three little friends and their meddlesome little dog wandered into a dark, haunted cave!” four figures emerged in the mist before him, and Lewis watching, paralyzed, as they traveled into the mouth of a viridian ring, swallowed into darkness.

_No._

“None could know what lay inside, none could anticipate what awaited them within. But that which already lived there knew. And it felt all those tender feelings of loneliness crying out for _somebody_ to listen, all that budding resentment aching for release!”

The figures split apart, two groups he’s seen so often in his memories, and Lewis’ vision is _tunneling._

  
“And it came. It knew his loneliness, knew his fears. It whispered, ‘everything will be alright’. For there was a way to make it _aaaall_ better,” the voice hissed, sweet and sickening. In front of him, the gold figure began to become tinted with green.

_No, NO!_

“You see, the feelings were already there. Simmering, deep, deep down, where they’d be of no use to anyone! After all, how could he harm two such wonderful people? But you see, they’d been harming _him_ all along! And the listener, that kindly listener, realized that. And, slowly, they brought it up, teased it out, a little bit at a time . . .” The golden figure turned even greener, losing his luster, his shine, eyes slowly becoming fixated on the purple apparition’s back, “For all of it was already _there._ All the listener had to do . . .”

**_NO!_ **

The golden figure reached out, “Was give . . .”

_That can’t be right!_

Grabbed the other by the shoulder, “Them . . .”

**_How could that be right?!_ **

The purple apparition turned around, confused, “A . . .”

**_BECAUSE IF THAT’S RIGHT, THEN THAT MEANT-!_ **

“ _Push._ ”

And suddenly, Lewis’ is standing on the edge of a cliff once again, a hand shoving him back, the face of his closest friend distorted in shadow, lips turned up into a viscous grin (had there always been a fang there?), eye gleaming madly in the light of the torch he dropped (was it always tinted green?), his laughter chasing Lewis down as he plummeted to the rocks below (why did it sound like crying now?).

His vision went white, then red, and his ears rang with the sound of Vivi’s scream, **_“LEWIS!!!!”_**

And then he was screaming too, and fire erupted from his hands, his arms, his entire body, flushing the cavern in brilliant magenta light. Fire was all he saw.

It’s not until his arms fell slack and he dropped to his knees that it finally died, panting and spent, traces of flame weakly fluttering around him, embers raining from the sky. The Deadbeats he’d had were gone, vanished with the sudden aching void in his soul, and his heart lay on the ground in front of him, slate gray and lifeless, filled with so many cracks it was a wonder how it held together at all.

A spark of colorful flame bounced off of it, pink and purple. Another joined it. Then another. And another . . .

Was he . . . crying?

A presence made itself known in front of him, Arthur’s-but not Arthur’s-voice filling his ears, “Do you get it now? Does it fill in the _blanks?”_

A hand reached down and clamped him by the jaw, forcing him to look up at the vivid, poisonous green of the monster’s eyes, “It was _me_ all along.”

_It was them. It was them. It was them._

Everything was this monster’s fault . . .

So many things came undone then. All of his perceptions, everything of what he had believed up until that point, his very own reason for returning. Just like that . . . it all went up in smoke.

The creature chuckled darkly, “Aw, having a bit of a crisis right now? Can hardly blame you. Not every day you have _everything you believed_ _in_ completely uprooted to the core. But that’s okay! I’ll make it aaaaall better.~”

He saw the creature’s vile hand reaching down for the heart on the ground, lightning dancing around it’s sable claws. He knew what it was going to do without it even having to say it. It was going to shatter it. It was going to kill him.

It’d get away with killing him _again . . ._

It’d get away . . . without _paying any **price** for it!_

Amethyst light shed through the cracks of his heart, and suddenly, _rage_ filled him to the very core. It was hot, wild, so _intense,_ he was _blinded_ with it-!

And he really couldn’t give a damn, because he’s found his murderer anew . . . and he wanted them to **_hurt._**

The creature realized its own danger a split second too late, and in the process of springing back, Lewis was already blasting forward, flames exploding behind him with all the force of an engine rocket. His hands found the creature’s neck instantly, eyes fixed only the glowing green retinas before him, conveying all of his rage, his hatred, through looks alone.

_“YOU **B̷͂͑͘Ḁ̷̧̢͓̼͖̇̓S̷̽T̶̒Ạ̸͌R̵D̷̓̏͊͝!!̴̛̫̟͌͂̎͗̈́̓̉͘!̴͑̿̾̿̂̒̌̔͂̉́͆̕͝”**_

He slammed the creature into the stone pillar behind him, the thing’s head knocking back against the rock before slumping forward, like it’d been concussed. Keeping a heavy hand on it’s throat, he brought his fist back, fire lighting up his whole arm, ready to _kill-!_

The head in front of him rose again, and golden eyes met magenta, eyes that were filled with fear.

The fire _died._

“L-Lewis?” Arthur, the _real_ Arthur, spoke, shivering. The green tint to his skin was gone, the claws shrunk to normal human nails, the evil green light in his eyes extinguished.  And it was only then that Lewis remembered that the creature was inside _Arthur’s_ body, that this was _Arthur_ in front of him, _Arthur_ , who was . . . innocent?

 _Innocent_ . . . the mere idea that such a thing could even be possible brought with it a flood of so many conflicting emotions that for several seconds he was frozen. Lewis had hated Arthur so much for everything he had stolen from him, and inside it was still _there_ , simmering beneath his ghostly skin, because that was all he had felt for the other man for _so long_ he didn’t know what else to feel, but now that was . . . wrong? Was he supposed to be relieved? Happy? _Horrified?_

To feel anything different at all for the man, it was earth-shaking and alien all in the same breadth. He’d _hated_ Arthur so much, this sudden shift is _jarring_. How many times had he tried to kill him? How much terror and pain had he put the man through for his revenge? What was Lewis supposed to _do_ with him now?

Call him a friend again? He honestly didn’t know if he was ready for that, not after everything, not with all this bad blood Lewis had spilled in his quest for vengeance. Not when he still can’t shake the imagine of his best friend thrusting him off the edge, even if he was possessed.

But how can he bring himself to hurt or kill Arthur now, knowing the truth? When his death wouldn’t bring the release he wanted, would be nothing but the same cold-blooded murder he’d believed his old friend responsible for?

Not even getting into all of the . . . _other_ things, the creature had laid bare. But that is _not_ something he can deal with right now, _at all._

“A-Arthur?” Lewis started, shocked, floundering in the sea of his own confusing emotions.

His former friend’s eyes are full of terror, but something else too, something like _knowing,_ apologies swimming in them as wildly as his tears. The man’s hands cling to his arm tightly, shaking him, all but screaming in desperation, “Lewis, _LEWIS_ , I’m sorry, I’m _sorry, I’m so SORRY, I didn’t know, **I didn’t know!”**_

“Arthur-!” Lewis stared at him, seeing the panic building, fingers loosening their iron grip.

But Arthur only shook his head, sobbing, one hand going up to fist inside his hair, pulling hard, eyes wild, “N-No, Lewis, you can’t stop! You can’t stop, it’s still here _it’s still in my head I can HEAR it I can’tgetitoutyouhavetostopmeLEWIS PLEASE-!”_

_Ba-bump._

Lewis’ entire incorporeal body _froze._

His eyes found Arthur’s, who’s own golden ones had gone huge, before both pairs traveled down between them.

Arthur’s hand, tainted green, was locked around Lewis’ heart, the fragile thing beating wildly in his grip, a grip that felt like a squeezing vice to Lewis. The fingers clenched harder, and pure pain lit up Lewis whole body, forcing out a cry as the spirit fell to his knees.

“N-no, no, stop, _STOP!”_ Arthur shouted, quaking from head to toe as the human fought for control of his own body, his free hand grabbing the wrist of the cursed one desperately.

But the green was only traveling higher, faster, forcing its control on him with unparallel ease. Arthur looked at him despondently, despairingly, the white of one eye turning dark as tears dripped own his face, “Lewis, I-I’m sorry, I c-can’t s-stop!”

Lewis forced himself up, glaring but for once not at Arthur, his voice seething even as it shook with pain, “Get out of Arthur . . . and fight me yourself you _coward!_ ”

The green spreading over Arthur’s skin increased its speed tenfold, and Arthur screamed when it did. A scream that just as quickly fell silent, before the entity before him chuckled. Green irises locked with Lewis’, that same vile smirk he remembered now flashing wide as the creature idly wiped away any trace of Arthur’s tears like they were no more than irritating specks, “You really think I’m stupid enough to do that? I just got this body back, and I’m _not_ letting go of it again.”

With a snarl, Lewis attempted to throw himself at the thing, when another surge of crippling pain sent him collapsing back to the ground, _“Ugh . . .!”_

The demon chuckled again, “You know, it’s really quite funny!”

The toe of a shoe suddenly slammed into the side of Lewis’ skull, knocking him to the side. He hit the ground with a heavy _thud_ , head ringing, vision speckled with stars. Before he could get up again though, the creature planted a foot harshly on his chest, keeping him pinned as he hovered over him.

The creature’s jagged smirk and glowing eyes were all he could see, his frantically pulsing heart thudding wildly in it’s hand, “The moment you needed to kill your friend the most, and you couldn’t even lay a finger on him. All because of a little twist to the truth you thought you knew _so well.”_

The creature side-eyed the heart in its hands almost idly, thoughtful, perusing . . . then slipped a finger along the side and _jammed_ his clawed finger into it, forcing it to open.

The sensation is like nothing Lewis has ever felt before. It’s the pain of a sword ripping through his side, and the utter violation of slimy, filthy fingers creeping into his very soul, tainting everything they touched.

 The creature _tsked_ almost sadly, but upward curl of its lips betrayed the taunt for what it was as it looked over the picture tucked so carefully within, “Aw, what a picture-perfect little couple. He wanted to be apart of that _so_ badly.” It chuckled again, snapping it closed with a forceful and uncomfortable _click_ , “But then it wouldn’t have been perfect anymore, would it?”

Lewis glared at it, glared so hard his eyes burned hot, all his hatred and his fury coalesced.

The creature only smiled at him, and suddenly, there was an eye in his face, the one embedded in Arthur’s left palm. The bottom lid of that same eye curved up, like it was smiling without a mouth, mirth dancing in its evil black eye, “You know, Arthur can see everything that’s happening right now. He’s _begging_ me to spare you.”

Some of his fury abated, glare softening only slightly as his curves of his brow rose up. Arthur could see this? The thought . . . made him uncomfortable.

The eye left, pulled back. There’s a moment of hard, heavy silence, one where Lewis wished he could do something with his weak limbs, that he could tear the spirit out and pulverize into a measly little pile of nothing. But his energy is depleted, worn down by the cracks in his soul, a soul at the mercy of his enemy.

An enemy that gave it one last, long glance . . . before looking back down at him and _smirking,_ “A shame we never get what we want.”

And the creature’s hand tightened into a fist, and the heart in it’s hand _shattered._

For a moment, Lewis was completely weightless, untethered, body shifting between physical and not for several horrible, dissociative seconds. All around him, the cavern shifted and peeled apart, revealing smooth metal walls and crates as his created world fell apart at the seams, leaving them both squarely in the back of the semi he had taken.

He can feel himself falling apart as well, slowly but surely, motes of purple light rising from his gradually disintegrating limbs. He tried so hard to stay together, to keep himself here . . . but his body had no interest in complying.

He was . . . fading.

Green eyes appeared above him, the only thing he can see through the shadows of the truck.

“Fade away, spirit,” it said, “Your time in this world is _done.”_

Lewis mustered as much strength as he could to glare, but the creature only laughed dismissively, “Oh, don’t give me that. We’re all here because of you. But, if it helps your soul to _rest at peace_ . . .”

It crouched down, a slant of light sliding up it’s wicked face, “I promise, I’ll take _very_ good care of Arthur. And, as a favor to you for giving me the chance to take back what is mine . . .”

A claw lightly tapped Lewis on the chest, the creature practically purring with sugar-sweet sincerity, “I’ll make sure you and your dear little Vivi are reunited in the afterlife sweet and _soon._ ”

Rage coursed through him, and Lewis found just enough strength to swing a partially vanished arm at the creature’s head, spurts of flame flying. Alas, he was too slow, the beast in Arthur’s skin dancing away with laughter in it’s voice. Pained, Lewis rolled onto his side, trying to follow, to do _something_ , because if he didn’t, then Vivi-!

“Now, I’m afraid its time we part,” the creature said, smiling, “I have a troublesome little canine to make suffer, and plenty of other unresolved business to take care of after that! Farewell, little phantom. And once more . . . thank you.”

And just like that . . . it was gone.

And Lewis was left alone, fading away.

Despairing, he rolled onto his back again, the shards of his own shattered soul tinkling as he moved. It wouldn’t be long now . . .

 _Vivi . . ._ he thought, _I’m sorry . . ._

And perhaps shockingly, but perhaps not . . . he realized as the last of his sorrowful form faded away, his apology extended to Arthur too.

____

The truck was silent, empty. What trace of power resided here gone.

Almost.

In the very back, a tiny pink wisp gradually formed, trailing from the crates to hover above the remnants of a shattered soul. As it drew closer, it grew larger, more stable, until finally a small Deadbeat had formed. Its lips were turned into a sad frown, small tears beading the corners of its bright eyes, but aside from the melancholy in its gaze . . . there was also purpose.

Carefully, it shifted through the shards, one careful piece at a time, searching for what called it here. It didn’t take long . . . after carefully lifting up one large piece, it found what it needed sheltered below, hidden in the ruin.

A single, tiny heart.

It’s gray and appeared lifeless at first, but the ghost can feel the pulse from it, weak though it was. Reaching down, it plucked it up and cradled it close, feeling the warmth from within.

Like it was holding glass, it carefully pressed a hand upon it, and with a _click_ , the tiny thing split apart to reveal what was inside.

A single picture, a memory buried so deep inside that its master hadn’t even remembered it. But here it was. The single remaining tether they had to this world.

A picture of three people, standing together, sharing a smile that reached their eyes, affection and trust aglow in all their bright, beaming faces.

A tear slid down the Deadbeat’s cheek, one that fell and splattered against the photo, disintegrating into pink dust against the frame. For a spirit, rage and hatred were strong bonds to keep them in the mortal world, powerful motivators to defy the bounds of their own deaths. That’s what its master had been driven by when he had stayed, its colleagues the embodiments of all his negative emotions. But there were other things too, to keep someone here. Things like melancholy and regret.

Things like needing to right a terrible wrong.

The Deadbeat gently closed it, holding the heart close, feeling it pulse weakly once again. It needed to find shelter. Find help. A place to protect itself until they were stronger again.

Strong enough to make it right.

It needed _home._


	2. When the Past Comes Back to Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot of you wanted a sequel . . .
> 
> Well . . . here it is. And . . . possibly some more. After that. Yep.
> 
> Remember, you asked for this.

Several things happened at once for Vivi when she opened her eyes, grimacing from the pain in her hand and back.

One, the crazy scissor demon-lady was hovering over her, the jagged edge of her weapon glinting as evilly as the psychotic red light in her eyes as she raised it up, ready to run her through.

Two, a _gunshot_ suddenly rang out over the field, hitting aforementioned demon-lady square in the chest.

And three, she heard an animal’s angry growl right before a sudden _huge_ shadow leapt over her head and barreled straight into, again, the aforementioned demon-lady, knocking them both out of Vivi’s sight.

It’s a bit of an information overload when you’re partly concussed from being hit on the head and then ejected from your car, is what she meant.

Head spinning, Vivi tried to sit up, only to hiss through her teeth when her hand rather violently protested. A quick glance showed that her left hand possessed a large, painful cut along the both sides of her hand, meeting just beneath her thumb. It bled profusely, and it was so deep she could see a gleam of bone beneath the ruined flesh. The sight, in conjunction with her head trauma, was enough to make her just a little woozy.

Thankfully, a heavy, calloused hand gripped her shoulder and steadied her, keeping her from falling back down. Beside her, a wonderfully familiar voice spoke, gruff but concerned, “You alright, lass?”

Bringing her uninjured hand to her head, Vivi nodded, “I think I have a concussion. My hand hurts. There’s a crazy lady trying to kill my dog. Overall, I think we’re doing good!”

Lance gave her an odd side-eye, but relented as he readied up his gun and huffed, “Whatever you say, lass, but I don’t suppose ya got a plan for Japanese Audrey Two over there? And that big fuckin’ dog?”

Big fuckin’ what?

No sooner had Vivi thought that did another furious roar get her attention, and she nearly forgot about her pain as she scrambled to her feet to take full stock of her situation.

The first thing she noticed straight away was what was going on in the middle of the parking lot, where two figures were battling it out. One, the crazy woman, her wild eyes completely fixated on her opponent, and the other . . .

_oooOOOOO!_

A huge, stately beast, body streamlined and corded with muscle, pouncing elegantly on its four legs. It looked like a fox in shape, with silken white fur and seven glorious tails that fanned out majestically behind it, the tips of each one and its clawed paws dipped in black. Shots of red fur lined it’s face and beautiful mane, a sight that was both weirdly familiar for some reason and also one that stirred a memory in Vivi. It looked like . . . like a _kitsune_ , she realized! Just like the books her Granny gave her so long ago! Sure, the creature’s eyes were glowing a hellish red, it was missing two tails, and its lips were drawn back into a vicious snarl as it snapped at the other’s throat, but still . . . so _COOL!_

“AaaaaaAAA!” Vivi couldn’t stop herself, eyes sparkling. Since when had a _kitsune_ gotten here? What had she missed?!

Lance wasn’t anywhere near as interested as she was, “Ock, I get this is somethin’ you kids like, but I say we get my nephew, and _skedaddle!”_

Ah, Arthur, right!

The car was still smoking, crunched into the side of Lance’s auto shop, shattered glass scattered all across the ground. Vivi couldn’t see Arthur anywhere, and that worried her, because while he was what one would definitely call a ‘fraidy-cat, he would _never_ abandon her in a situation like this. And Mystery . . . she didn’t see him anywhere, even more cause for alarm!

Vivi didn’t quite put the pieces together until she saw what was sitting across from the van. And when she did, her heart dropped in her chest.

_Oh no . . ._

A big semi, but one clearly in possession of a spirit. And the colors, the decal, the serpentine specters hovering around it on guard duty . . . Vivi had a sinking feeling she knew which one.

A feeling soon confirmed by Lance’s next, sobering words, the man’s brow knit into a tight knot of worry, “I saw some big brute haulin’ Arthur off into the back. I tried to get inside, but those things knocked me back on my ass fer my trouble. Hopin’ you have somethin’ better up your sleeve.”

Vivi wished that were true. Their escape must have really pissed this ghost off, to follow them all the way out here . . . but no, focus! So what if she didn’t have a plan, that’s never stopped her before!

Hurriedly, she grabbed the bat she had dropped with her uninjured hand, giving it an experimental swing. There was a jagged crack on one side, a result of the scissors, she assumed, but it held steady. Hopefully it would be enough to ward away a few ghosts.

“Did you see Mystery at all?” Vivi asked, glancing the way of the two battling demons in the parking lot. They seemed completely engrossed in each other, thankfully.

“ . . . no. Don’t know where your dog’s run off too,” Lance said, finger hovering over the trigger of his gun, eyes set on the truck.

"Hmm . . . Mystery doesn’t run away from things . . . maybe he went after Arthur when the ghost came back,” she theorized. It sounded plausible, if a little out-of-character for the hound. He normally stuck to her side like glue.

Giving the bat another swing, she began to march forward, “Well, we’ll never figure it out if we stand here, so let’s get going!”

The ghosts must have noticed her clear intent to enter, as several floated down to hover in front of the open truck, fangs bared to bar entry.

Vivi narrowed her eyes, “So, wanna do it the hard way, huh?”

One hand was out of commission, but she only needed one to swing the bat effectively. And, as boldly as any mortal woman with a friend to save, she gallantly strode forward with her bat ready to strike at the first hint of provocation.

Belatedly, Vivi realized she probably should have been paying more attention to what was going on with the two other stupidly powerful supernatural creatures nearby, because then she might have noticed the plant woman vanishing into the earth as if it were water, completely bypassing her opponent . . .

. . . and bursting out of the ground right in Vivi’s face.

“AH!” keyed up as she was, Vivi was very much a swing first and asked questions later kind of girl. Which is exactly what she did, air whistling through the crack in the bat’s side.

_CLANG!_

Vivi’s hand stuttered as the bat became caught between the woman’s crooked scissors, the shard-like edges digging rents into the sides. A split second later, a massive hand was around her throat, partially lifting her off the ground as the creature’s manic eyes glowed hotly, lips twisted into a venomous smirk.

“And where do you think _you’re_ going, girly?” the woman hissed in raspy Japanese, fangs gleaming, “I’m not done with you!”

If she was supposed to answer, Vivi had no way of knowing. Especially when her vision was suddenly filled with white fur and the sharp gleam of fangs as the kitsune from before ferociously sank its teeth into the woman’s arm, tearing through her blued, bark-like flesh with ease. At the same time, several of its tails lashed onto her, one around her waist, her neck, and finally around the wrist of the hand armed with the scissors.

The woman glared at it, lips curling into an unimpressed frown, hardly looking like she was in any kind of pain at all, “Really, running to protect your mistress like some _dog?_ You really have fallen far, mutt.”

The woman’s fingers tightened around Vivi’s throat, drawing a pained wince, and jeez, just what _was_ this lady’s problem?! Vivi’d kick her teeth in if she could, but the massive kitsune in the way made that a little difficult to accomplish.

Lucky for her, she wasn’t alone! A fact the lady seemed to have forgotten.

_BANG!_

The woman’s head exploded into a cloud of ash, body shuddering beneath the sudden gunpowder decapitation. The fingers around Vivi’s throat loosened, and she wiggled free as quickly as she could, ignoring the ringing in her left ear as she backpedaled to safety.

“You alright?!” Lance asked her, coming to her side as he reloaded his trusty gun.

Massaging her neck, she nodded, “Yeah, I’m good! Not even close to the worst thing that’s happened to me!”

“I don’t take that as assurin’, lass!”

Before she could reply, the kitsune’s throaty growl distracted her. With wide eyes, she watched as it threw the body back before going to stand in front of the pair with its teeth bared into a savage snarl, eyes still aglow. Like it was . . . protecting them? Well, that was nice of it. But as it moved, a glimmer of gold caught Vivi’s eyes, dragging them down to the beast’s chest. A collar was there, one she hadn’t noticed before, bright red and bearing a golden tag that was . . . familiar.

 _Very_ familiar. In fact, it even looked exactly like . . . !

Wait a second.

Wait a _hot fucking second!_

That was her dog’s collar! Her dog, who was mysteriously missing, with red fur just like this fox, a fox the lady had called a dog running to protect its mistress, while protecting _her_ , and no way, absolutely no way, holy _shit-!_

But the evidence only pointed to one logical conclusion, even if she could scarcely believe it. So, mouth gaping, Vivi pointed at the kitsune.

_"MYSTERY?!?!”_

A factual (and unbelievable) guess that was confirmed when the beast _tilted it’s head in her direction_ , ears falling low as the light in it’s eyes faded to a warm, deep, _familiar_ reddish-brown, looking for all the world like a dog afraid of getting a scolding. Which, _holy shit_ , he was absolutely gonna get when they weren’t all in mortal danger anymore!

_Vivi . . ._

That as in her head. That was in her head, and holy crapoli, could her dog use _telepathy?!_

 _Vivi, I know you’re confused, and I know I owe you an explanation, but now is not the time,_ Mystery ( _Mystery!_ Her previously not-talking dog!) said, his voice significantly smoother and deeper than she would have imagined on her cute little canine friend, _Please, take Lance and leave this place._

“What?!” That snapped Vivi right out of her shock, “We can’t just leave you and Arthur here! Not with her and that ghost!”

“ _Who_ are you talking too? Don’t tell me ya knocked your head up worse than I thought!” Lance started, staring in absolute confusion at her, evidently not able to hear Mystery’s speech, “And what are you on about with that thing bein’ your _dog?_ ”

 _I’ll get Arthur, I promise. I’m stronger than I look,_ Mystery said, ignoring Lance as his tails fanned out, _But you’re in terrible danger here!_

“So?!” she demanded, “When’s that stopped me before!”

_Vivi-!_

“Ha, you’re _really_ going to let her tell you what to do?! You used to stand so proudly over them all!” an unpleasantly familiar voice hissed, and Vivi looked to see the woman from before rising up, head completely intact, “Pathetic! You don’t deserve even a _fraction_ of that power of yours! But that’s okay! _I_ won’t let it go to waste!”

She snapped her scissors threateningly, smirking, red lighting up her eyes with wicked promise. Mystery’s fur stood on end, growling as his own eyes lit up again, and Vivi readied her bat. This was about to take a turn for the worse, she could feel it.

And she was right. It just was not in the way she expected.

Above all their heads, the specters observing the spectacle suddenly let loose a horrible set of screeches that grated into her ears, before just as suddenly _disintegrating_ into nothing. And the truck . . . the whole thing began to peel apart like old paint, the ghostly colors and shapes vanishing into dust, until only a regular old semi sat there in the lot. Like the possession had never been there. But . . . the only way that could happen was if the spirit that was controlling it was . . . gone.

But who did that? Not one of them, they hadn’t even had a chance to get close! So did that mean . . .?

From the open back, a figure suddenly emerged, a familiar one that set Vivi’s heart at ease.

“Arthur!” she cried, delighted. Had he really taken care of the spirit all by himself? Holy cow, that was _incredible!_

Beside her, Lance practically sagged in on himself in relief, “Artie! Thank the lord you’re alright! Ya gave me a good scare there, boy!”

Smiling still, Vivi took a step forward, when a sudden pressure around her waist stopped her. Looking down, she found that Mystery had wrapped one of his tails around her middle, holding her back.

 _No . . ._ Mystery said, fur bristling, voice filled with alarm, _That’s_ not _Arthur!_

“What?” Vivi stared at the kitsune, puzzled. But any further questioning she had died in her throat when she saw Arthur smile. A smile that sent a very cold chill down her spine, colder even than the fog that began to pool across the ground, spilling over the mouth of the open truck.         

Then, Arthur vanished.

Things happened _fast_ after that, far faster than Vivi could process. Mystery threw her back, and not a moment too soon because suddenly there were claws in her face, the tips just barely missing her nose, so close she felt the whisk of air over her skin. Beyond them, she saw eyes as black as an inkwell, lit by rings of brilliant green as poisonous as the grin on it’s face.

She hit her back and scrambled up to her knees as quick as she could, just in time to witness Lance hold his gun up, ready to shoot . . . only to completely freeze in shock.

“Arthur?!” the man shouted, mouth hanging open. And to her utter shock and horror, Vivi saw he was right! It _was_ Arthur, but . . . something was wrong with him, horribly wrong!

‘Arthur’ smirked, before suddenly lunging the mechanic’s way, grabbing the barrel of the gun with one hand and yanking him closer. Eyes glowing, he spoke with Arthur’s voice, but the distorted, echoing quality is decidedly inhuman, “Hey, old man!~”

_Shluck!_

_“Urk-!”_ Lance grunted, and Vivi gasped in horror when she saw ‘Arthur’s’ claws sinking deep into Lance’s gut. Blood blossomed around his fingertips, spreading through the white of Lance’s undershirt.

“You look tired.~ Why don’t you take a _nap!_ ” ‘Arthur’ then flung Lance back with inhuman strength like he was doing no more than tossing a pebble, the older man slamming into the side of the van with a painful _thud!_

“UNCLE LANCE!” Vivi screamed, horrified. Oh no, oh _shit_ , how did this happen?! When did this get so bad?!

A flash of red and white, and suddenly ‘Arthur’ was being bowled over by several hundred pounds of angry fox, teeth sinking into the other’s shoulder as he was pinned face-first in the dirt.

 _Let Arthur go, spirit!_ Mystery demanded, eyes burning.

“Fat chance, mutt! I waited a long time to get this body back! And this time, there’s _nothing you can_ _do about it!”_ electricity sparked around ‘Arthur’, and Vivi’s vision flashed white as sudden waves of lightning lit the scene in front of her.

When at last she could see again, it was to find Mystery driven back by the blast with an irate spirit (for what else could it be?) chasing after him. But this thing inside Arthur’s body was only one of their problems, a fact she was reminded of when the earth around the battling pairs feet suddenly exploded, thorns and vines rupturing the concrete in a riotous mess. From the thrashing plants, the demon woman burst out, enlarged scissors snapping at Mystery as rage burned in her eyes, “And where do you get off _IGNORING ME?!”_

‘Arthur’ backpedaled just in time as several vines rushed him, mist wrapping around his form until Vivi could barely see him at all, whistling, “Woo, you keep some interesting company, mutt! But I gotta say, I’m not surprised I’m not the only one you’ve pissed off.”

“STAY OUT OF THIS!!” the woman screamed, fixing her wild eyes on the mist and slashing into it with wild, uncoordinated swings.

“Ooh, can’t share a bit of bloodletting? That’s a shame.~”

Vivi noticed a brisk movement, and she turned just in time to see Mystery spread out his tails like a peacock would, the edges of them beginning to glow with a ruby tinted light.

The next instant, her vision was swallowed by flickering red as flames erupted in front of her, a perfect circle forming around the battling trio while leaving the two mortals outside untouched. Getting to her feet, Vivi hopped to her left, then her right, frantically looking for any way inside. Mystery was in there, and so was Arthur, even if something was possessing him! She _had_ to help!

A groan grabbed her attention, and her heart skipped a beat when she remembered there was someone else very much in need of her attention.

“Uncle Lance!” she shouted, running to his side and dropping to her knees. The old mechanic was slouched over, but still conscious, thank god. He had a hand over his stomach where the wound was, the other clutching his shotgun tight, face pinched with pain.

When Vivi came closer, he met her worried eyes, and even though it _must_ be painful, he still put on a smile, “Don’t worry, lass, looks a lot worse than it is. Not even close to the worst thing that’s happened to me.”

Against all odds, Vivi chuckled, “Yeah, well, maybe we shouldn’t push our luck. Hang on, we have a med kit in the car, I’ll bring it out!”

The man grabbed her wrist before she could leave, however, and she stared at him, puzzled, “Uncle Lance-?”

“No time,” the man looked at the scene in front of them, the fire’s heat washing over both of them, “Those things’ll notice us sooner or later. And, if anythin’, I’d rather you work on savin’ Arthur!”

Lance’s eyes fixed onto a green shadow through the flames, black claws flashing as they lashed at the fox protecting both of them before dodging an enraged swipe from the other demon on the field. The mechanic’s lips pulled down into a tight frown, a different sort of pain in his eyes as he grit his teeth, “Ya know me, I don’t know nothin’ about this nonsense you kids go after. And I can’t . . . I can’t just _shoot_ that thing outta him! He’s my-!”

His words were lost when he began to cough, painfully, and Vivi placed a consoling hand over his own. She knew exactly where this was coming from, and she hated that she didn’t have any on-deck tools for an impromptu exorcism. Damn it, why had she let Arthur talk her out of leaving those things behind? Just because they weren’t _necessary?_ You NEVER know when those things will be necessary!

But . . . she might have something they could use to defend themselves with. Not to discredit her bat, but there were better ways to confront demons and subdue them.

“Hold on,” she said, getting up and running to the back of the van. Hastily her eyes scanned the back, until she finally found what she was looking for . . . a lacquered wooden box, half-hidden beneath the cot.

She grabbed it fast and yanked it open, revealing the several vails that rested within. Holy water. You’d be an idiot to leave something like that behind. Grabbing as many as her good hand could carry, Vivi ran back out, uncorking one with her teeth.

 _Maybe it won’t stop them, but it might slow ‘em down . . ._ she thought, narrowing her eyes through the smoke, trying to pick apart the writhing shapes she saw beyond. She could make out Mystery’s multi-tailed shape easily, and the two-legged figure he was fighting with was wielding a huge weapon she recognized as scissors. Then that left . . .

"Looking for something?”

. . . Oh _shit._

Vivi whirled around, finding the shadow sitting perched above her head easily, its face cut by a wide, crooked grin and bright glowing eyes. She was about to throw the vial in her hand, when before she could blink the thing was suddenly in front of her face, grabbing both her wrists and pinning her against the open back door of the van. She cried out when her injured hand struck the interior door handle, white hot pain flashing all the way up to her shoulder and bringing tears to her eyes. The vials she was carrying were knocked from her grip, scattering across the ground out of her reach.

“Oh, come now, you wouldn’t hurt a _friend_ , would you?” the creature asked in Arthur’s voice, smirking, “It’d hurt his feelings if you did that.”

Vivi glared at it, wishing she could tear it out herself. God, Arthur must be so scared right now, if he was aware of this . . .

Then, the spirit said a very strange thing, “Don’t remember me either, hm? Well, that’s to be expected. We never properly met last time.”

Vivi stared at it, puzzled beyond belief, “What are you talking about?”

“What indeed! I _could_ answer, but frankly, I don’t care enough to explain it. Besides, you can get your answers in the afterlife. Someone’s waiting for you there, after all~,” it smirked, face filled with vile mirth, it’s ‘answer’ only confusing her further. But maybe that was what it wanted.

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t plan on dragging this out.~” the creature said, leaning closer, _uncomfortably_ closer, “A shame, slaughtering a pretty thing like you _. But,_ I made a promise after all, and I _always_ keep my promises.~”

Vivi met the creature’s eyes head on, refusing to let it cow her, “You think you scare me?!”

“Oh, well, I’d think just a _little_ bit,” the creature purred, the rings of its eyes glowing a bit brighter. A forked tongue slipped past its lips, and Vivi flinched as the tips brushed against her cheek. Gross . . .

“Any last words, sweetheart? I’ll be happy to tell them to little Artie for you,” it said, sadistic pleasure lacing every word as it pressed two claws against her throat, releasing her injured hand. It only applied the slightest pressure, but she _felt_ it cut through her skin like paper, stinging hot as blood trickled down her neck. Injured or not, she  reflexively grabbed it with her only free hand, even though the gash protested _mightily_ to that action.

And, instead of giving it what it wanted, Vivi boldly fixed her gaze on the creature’s eyes and looked _beyond_ it, shouting instead to the person who needed to hear it the most, “Arthur! Arthur, if you can hear me, don’t worry! We’ll get this thing out of you, we’ll _save you_ , just _hang in there!”_

The creature frowned, unimpressed, “Feh. How boring.”

It’s claws flexed, and Vivi tensed her own leg in preparation to kick the living shit out of her attacker (sorry Arthur), when aforementioned attacker suddenly reeled back with an agonized cry. Vivi blinked as she watched it hop on one foot, the other smoking as the flesh there sizzled.

Its not until a string of belligerent chittering dragged her attention downwards to the floor, to blink in astonishment when she saw a familiar little hamster rocking back forth on his wheels, holding onto an empty vial bigger than he was.     

“Nice job, Galaham,” she said, a little awed.

The reprieve, though, was short-lived. Already the scorched skin was healing, and electricity was crackling around the demon’s hands, eyes narrowed in pure annoyance, “Little _rat . . .”_

Vivi made to grab Galahad and the vials before the creature could truly let loose, sensing the danger they were in, when the sudden cock of a gun by her head made her pause.

“No so fast,” a familiar accented voice growled, and Vivi looked at Lance with wide eyes. He was standing straight with only the faintest tremor in his arms, like the wound in his stomach was only a minor nuisance rather than the five deep gouges they were. He’d fixed his shotgun on ‘Arthur’, a hard and furious gleam in his eyes, never taking his gaze off the creature.

For it’s part, the thing puppeteering Arthur’s body didn’t seem even remotely bothered, “What, are you really going to shoot me, old man? I’m your nephew, remember?”

“You ain’t my nephew,” the older man spat, “But I’ll be damned if I let you hurt one of his friends using _his_ body like that, ya scabby bastard!”

It only shrugged, smirking and completely unbothered by the insult, “Big words. But words hardly mean anything if you don’t back them up with action. So? Just _how_ far are willing to go to stop me?”

Vivi glared at it, holding Galahad close, the little hamster clutching tight to another vial. This bastard . . . he _must_ know how hard this must be for Lance. For _all_ of them! Using Arthur like a _shield_ , all while taunting them with that fact, it made her sick! If only she could just rip it out herself, somehow! Teach it a lesson or two in manners!

Then, another voice chimed in, _Fortunately, not very far at all._

Before anyone could react, a white shape leapt over both of their heads, slamming into the entity across from them. The creature gave a hiss, static crackling, but Mystery as just a little faster; with the momentum he had gathered, he spun a full one-eighty on his front paws and rammed his back ones square into ‘Arthur’s’ chest, sending the beast careening through the window of Lance’s auto shop. There were several accompanying _thuds_ after that, then silence.

Before Vivi could tell Mystery ‘good job!’, the fox demon cut off any sort of conversation, _Get on my back._ Now. _We have to leave._

“What the _fuck-!”_

Mystery cut Lance off, _Lance, please, now is not the time._

“W-wha-? But, what about Arthur?!” Vivi started, confused and _very_ reluctant to leave her friend behind.

 _I might have been able to handle only one of these creatures, but two of them is pushing it. I’ve got Shiromori distracted for now, but that won’t last forever, and that thing in there won’t stay down for long either! I won’t be able to protect you much longer like this,_ Mystery said, ears back and eyes narrowed like the confession physically pained him. And maybe a part of it was, because looking at him then, Vivi noticed just how injured he was; a deep gash along his shoulder, his flank, and one of his tails bore a kink in it that was definitely not there before. He was . . . a lot more hurt than she thought . . .

 _I want to save Arthur too,_ Mystery said consolingly, and judging by the pain in his eyes, she knew he was being utterly truthful, _I do. But we_ need _to regroup. Make a plan. Otherwise . . ._

There was silence for a few moments, Vivi staring at Mystery, Mystery staring at his paws, and Lance being uncharacteristically quiet in light of this new situation. Vivi didn’t think there had ever been a moment she’d been more _torn._ She wanted to save Arthur so badly, and the thought of abandoning him now made her sick . . . but she could see Mystery’s point, and the wounds on his body were wounds on her own heart as well. Oh, what could she _do?_

Then, before her thoughts could sink any further, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, “Aye . . . he’s right lass . . .”

Vivi snapped her head to stare at Lance, about to protest out of instinct . . . until she saw the wet, shimmering gleam in his eyes that made her snap her mouth shut. His hand was clenched tight around his shotgun, so hard it was shaking, and his voice was thick as he spoke, “He’s right. I _hate_ the thought of leavin’ my boy here, with that _thing_ , but if we get ourselves killed . . . who’ll help him, then?”

Vivi felt like her heart was breaking, her own eyes beginning to sting. In her hand, Galahad chittered sadly.

It’s not until a soft brush against her cheek distracted her that she turned her head, seeing one of Mystery’s tails drawing back, comforting and quiet. The fox demon then looked at Lance, understanding in his eyes, voice solemn, _We_ will _save Arthur. I swear it to you. I won’t leave him like this._

Lance sucked in a hard, heavy breath, closing his eyes as he fought to compose himself. When he opened them again, they were still wet, still sad . . . but resolved as well, “Aye. We will.”

Mystery nodded, then moved so his back was exposed to both of them. Taking his meaning, Vivi took a quick breath and hopped up, doing her best to hold on to both Galahad and Mystery with an injured hand. Lance, after a moment’s hesitation, clambered up as well, sitting behind her.

No sooner had Mystery started running did a furious scream rise up from behind them, and Vivi craned her head around to see an enraged trees spirit burst from the flames. Behind her, for a second Vivi thought she saw _another_ Mystery laying on the ground, body pockmarked with wounds . . . but it faded away mere moments after, an empty illusion, **_“GET BACK HERE, YOU DAMN MUTT!!”_**

Mystery’s tails fanned out without bothering to acknowledge her, their glow spreading over all of them. It tingled over Vivi’s skin, warm and soothing, and she wondered what Mystery was doing. Her internal questions were very quickly answered, however, when they were suddenly _surrounded_ by the many other figures of a running Mystery with two confused human occupants on their backs, all of whom began to spread out in different directions, a medley of chaos like they were in the most confusing hall of mirrors _ever._

“Whoa!” Vivi shouted, stars in her eyes, “Are these illusions?”

 _They are. Hopefully it’ll keep her off our tails long enough to get somewhere safe,_ Mystery said, a touch of pride in his voice. Then, with a little more worry, he added, _Also hoping she’s a little too angry to think rationally right now._

“And, where’s ‘safe’ from somethin’ like _that?”_ Lance asked, incredulous.

Mystery made a sharp right, away from the road and into the desert as his multiple duplicates fanned out even more, the stars shining their cold fire above their heads, little lanterns in the dark. Behind them, Vivi could still see the cinders of the red flames Mystery had engulfed the area in, trailing crimson motes up into the sky. A part of her wondered ‘where indeed’, because where was safe from creatures like that? Short of maybe a church, but would that be good for Mystery?

Mystery didn’t answer straight away, a worrying sign. Until, very softly, he said thus;

_Sometimes . . . the safest place we can be is home._

He left it at that. And, clutching tight to Galahad and swallowing back her fears, she hoped he was right.

 _Arthur . . ._ she thought, glancing back one last time to the shop, _Just hang tight. We’ll come back for you._

_I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doot doot.

**Author's Note:**

> Little Sad Deadbeat saves the day.
> 
> Also, NO idea if the creature that possessed Arthur is gonna be that strong, but I wanted a cool supernatural fight, damn it! Also, give me hammy demons any day!


End file.
